tochange
by isumi 'kivic
Summary: Everything would change, but the mutual understanding and their feelings wouldn't. Because what they had was something only shared with each other and no one else. Shounen-ai, TezukaFuji.


Title: .to-change.

Author: isumi_ilde a.k.a isumi'kivic' at

Characters/Pairings: Tezuka/Fuji, Eiji, mentions of Atobe and Oishi—ignore the rest. xDDD

Rating: K+

Warnings: Shounen-ai, blah blah.

Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei needed to slap himself on the face, come back to be a TeFu fanboy and give us the TeFu hints we deserved. Which is to say they aren't mine, but his.

A/N: Happy Birthday, lj user="milkyxduckie"! Here's your present. I used the song to brainstorm the ideas rather than make it as a base for the fic, and I hope you're not disappointed with this. Ummm, and can we also make this a belated installment for Tezuka-Buchou's birthday? xDDDDD

Please enjoy!

**A Prince of Tennis Fanfiction**

_.to-change._

Party had never been one of his vocabularies, after all.

It was fine when it was just a small, simple dinner party—their team did it a lot back when they were only fifteen; sitting at Kawamura's with no intention other than devouring the delicious sushi, plates after plates after plates. Momoshiro's big mouth wasn't only for talking, after all. But a dance party was a whole different matter. To come dressed in a formal attire, black suit hugging his young figure, and to be standing amongst young girls and women in gorgeous, colorful gowns; politely refusing the girlish, hopeful giggles behind the offers to dance, was not something he'd grown up for. Unlike Atobe, of course.

And really, it was only until Atobe's younger cousin approached him, asking shyly for one song, that he finally relented and let himself move across the dance floor, spending the next seven minutes and a half with a blushing fifteen-year-old girl in his arms.

But it was only proper, he thought. After all, this was Atobe's birthday party. Surely granting his cousin a short dance would count as a sign of politeness, not a sign of mutual interest? Nevertheless, the short dance had made the other guests restless—he could already hear whispers; a sign of the brewing gossips. Feeling the telltale of a massive headache, Tezuka quietly excused himself, stepping out of the grandly decorated ballroom of Atobe's mansion in hopes of getting fresh autumn night breeze and clear his head.

Which was why Fuji found him sitting on the bench just several steps from the fountain—the white marble in the shape of two angels that reflected Atobe's extravagant taste gleaming under the bright moonlight. Atobe sure did choose a great night to hold his birthday party.

"Isn't it a bit impolite to leave your date all by herself, Tezuka?"

It was almost like a code—their conversations were. Ever since they started to drift closer to each other—how long had it been? Three, four years?—Tezuka had grown used to catch every single hidden meaning underlying each of Fuji's carefully picked words. This was no different, Tezuka knew that Fuji knew that. Likewise, Fuji himself had understood better than most people had—of what meanings the simplest gesture Tezuka let himself show, of what each stare and twitch of an eye conveyed.

Of course, Tezuka knew that as well. He just chose to play along with it.

"I don't have any date." Hazel eyes locked with cerulean ones for the slightest millisecond. "You, however, do."

Fuji's chuckle was soft, sounding like it could be easily carried away by the autumn night breeze. Their arms brushed ever so slightly as the honey brown-haired boy sat down next to the bespectacled boy. Ah—no. Eighteen years old like they were should not be called mere boys anymore. They were young men already; almost fully prepared to step out into the wicked world of adults, to assume their roles according to their social status and position.

"I am sure that Eiji's sister would be more than happy to enjoy the buffet table all by herself." A pause, before the Tensai added softly. "I've had a dance with her, too, which means I've fulfilled my role as a good date tonight."

They sat there in silence—as they had done numerous times before; even when they were on the phone as the other was across another continent away, content to enjoy the presence of the other as they mulled the thoughts swirling in their minds. Their shoulders brushed, their knees occasionally bumped each other, and as he flicked his gaze to look at their hands—inches from touching each other, and yet none of them made the move to join them together—Tezuka thought he could smell the faint lavender scent he'd long associated with his friend.

"You're going to miss out all the fun if you insist on spending the rest of the party out here. Atobe hasn't even cut the cake yet."

Things had always been like this between them. Tezuka knew, and Fuji knew just as well, but still they circled each other, judging the safe distance and always leaving a path for each other to back off when needed. Even years after days when Fuji would wait in front of the hospital for Tezuka to finish his examination, when the two of them would step under the same black umbrella wordlessly as the snow fell down, when Tezuka would stop by Fuji's class whenever he was about to have lunch, or when they would purposefully stand side by side watching a match just because it was comfortable to have each other close—even years after they knew that they would never push the other away no matter what, after they recognized what the warmth enclosing their chest at the sight of the other meant.

"You haven't changed at all." Tezuka had felt the need to point it out, so he did. The silky voice next to him let out a gentle chuckle, and again, the silence fell between them comfortably.

It didn't take long until a deafening cheer burst out from the direction of the mansion, breaking the serenity of an autumn night as the orchestre struck a crescendo, the melody echoing long after the instruments died down. There were light steps pattering closer to where they sat, then, and an overly eager, happy voice called out, "Buchou? Fujiko? Nya?"

There wasn't any need for him to answer, because Fuji always did it for him. "We're here, Eiji."

Eiji's figure lightly stepped into view, looking sheepish. "Eh. I didn't want to interrupt, nya, but Oishi said to get the both of you since Atobe wants all of his so-called rivals to be present for his speech after this—for whatever reason he has in his head, nya. Oh, and they're about to cut the cake, too!" His feline-like grin appeared just as easily as it had always been back in junior high, and for a second it left Tezuka wondering if none of his friends would ever change.

But no, as society was, individuals were always a subject of constant change. It was an inevitable fact, no matter how hard one wished against it.

"We'll go in a minute," Fuji smiled back, and Eiji seemed to take it as granted, because he lightly bounced back to the general direction of the mansion, swift and graceful like the cat he's always identified by others as, humming a cheerful tone as he went. It didn't take long for the redhead's voice to drift away and vanish into the autumn night wind.

"It seems we have to go back inside," Fuji murmured, voice still soft as he turned too look at him carefully; a smile still etched on his face. Tezuka nodded, raising to his feet at the exact second his companion did—knowing that when their arms brushed, it was no accident. Brushing the imaginary dust off his bum, the former captain gestured to the younger man to go first. But Fuji stayed there, looking up at the dark sky as the moon illuminated his slender form—and Tezuka's breath caught in his throat.

The word 'beautiful' nearly slipped out of his lips then, but thank God his tongue had frozen first. It was Fuji who broke the silence then, still looking up as if entranced by the non-existent stars, as he said in an absent tone, "Nothing's ever changed between us, has it?"

Tezuka took a moment to weigh his answer, as well as trying to see the hidden meaning under Fuji's soft tone—for all his experience deciphering Fuji's vague, double-meaning words, there were times when the Tensai's statement still confused him to no end. Deciding that there was no harm to just honestly answer, he breathed out softly. "No. Nothing has."

"I thought so."

Circling carefully, tentatively; shying away when they were merely an arm reach. Perhaps it was their consciences telling what they had to do in order to conform with what society dictated. Maybe it was the values that had been socialized all their lives, preventing them to do what they wanted because it would be deemed 'wrong'. Really, what was 'right' and what was 'wrong', actually? Weren't values just a consensus of what people perceived—made by the people themselves?

Then, what right did he have to be asking Fuji, _"Where's the real you?"_

_What about his own, then? Fuji's?_

"Let's go back," Fuji said, now looking content once again, as if he had settled down whatever battle was going on in his mind just seconds ago. As if the momentary angst that laced his voice hadn't been there at all. The petit young man stretched languidly—the white tux hugging his slender figure wrinkled in places. He was about to turn around and start walking, when suddenly Tezuka cut in. "Do you want us to?"

Fuji paused—clearly taken aback at Tezuka's prior inquiry—turning to face the former captain of Seigaku. His expression was priceless—Tezuka had never seen Fuji's mask fell so visibly before, leaving Fuji's expression naked, open to every interpretation. Cerulean orbs locked with his hazel ones, and Tezuka in turn was taken aback at the surprised and hope swirling in them, as well as—was that fear?

"I—" It looked like Fuji almost choke at the word, but the younger man cleared his throat awkwardly, putting back his smiling mask in a flash—and Tezuka found himself hating the fact that Fuji still thought to put on his masks before him, when he clearly knew that Tezuka was able to see through them. "Of course—we do need to come back, don't we? It's only polite, Tezuka—"

"That's not what I meant and you know that." The bespectacled young man cut him off with a firm shake of head. Holding Fuji's gaze, he repeated the question once again, "Do you want us to change?"

One might think it was a rhetorical question, but it wasn't. Tezuka was not one to ask such questions, Fuji was. Tezuka had always been a practical person after all—aiming to realize his thoughts into actions that would change everything around him. Everything about Fuji needed to be interpretative, while everything about Tezuka needed to be critical. And yet, Tezuka couldn't tell whether he was actually similar to Fuji, or absolutely different.

"Do you?" Fuji flipped the question back with a playful tone; his smiling mask now back perfectly on his face.

Tezuka hesitated—his logical thoughts washing over him once again; of how they would face their parents, of how society would rebuke, of their uncertain future. Was this—this moment between them, this absolute understanding that he only had with Fuji—was this not enough? When did this feeling transformed into a desire to possess?

"I thought so," Fuji said, even before Tezuka had the chance to open his mouth. "I don't think we need to change, Tezuka. This—whatever this is between us; I only have it with you. You and no one else. Maybe someday this wouldn't be enough, but for now—"

"Don't lie," again, he cut the honey brown-haired young man. "I know you, Fuji. I know—this isn't enough."

Fuji's gaze turned soft as the silence between them dragged on. "Maybe," he answered quietly. "But the question is not what we want, Tezuka. It's whether we're ready or not—to reach out beyond the line we'd drawn for ourselves." Fuji stepped forward, extending his hand towards the other young man's face, hovering as if to place it on Tezuka's cheek—inches from touching—all the while keeping their gazes level, communicating what words couldn't.

It was strange for him to be scared, Tezuka mulled in his head, because Fuji had always been an eccentric one. He was not supposed to be the one concerned with what society dictates—Fuji was supposed to be the one who broke through all the rules by eluding them smartly, being the eccentric genius that he was. He was different from those like Akutsu, who broke the values and norms by force—Fuji broke it through his own special ways. By keeping those devious plans under the innocent smiles. By getting remarkable marks at school even though he studied and played tennis on Wii at the same time, reciting humans' bones structure as he tried to use Higuma Otoshi on the game console. By giving the girls at school a friendly wave when he was actually on the phone flirting with Tezuka. By putting wasabi even in ice cream. Fuji was a deviant at heart, and he was doing it in his own way. Then why would this be something he should be scared of?

No—that's not quite it. Maybe that wasn't what Fuji was scared of. If he were scared at the change, he wouldn't reach out to Tezuka like this. It wasn't the prospect of change that scared Fuji, then. What was he afraid of?

Neither blinked, neither moved; until the corners of Tezuka's mouth curved up ever so slightly. He understood. Then again, hadn't he always, when it came to Fuji?

"I've never known you to be so scared before, Fuji."

The cerulean eyes held mirth in them, and the hand hovering on his cheek was dropped in a casual movement. "What a challenge to give, Tezuka." He chuckled, and Tezuka's smile widened ever so slightly. "Fine, then, I accept. Shall we change?"

"Yes," and this time, it was Tezuka who reached out to take Fuji's hand in his, squeezing gently. Even with this change in their bond, he knew something would never change. That it would always be Fuji who understood him and captured his heart—Fuji and no one else. That the understanding between them wouldn't change even with the problems brought by their relationship. He'd make sure of that—that the things Fuji was afraid to happen would never happen.

Everything would change, but the mutual understanding and their feelings wouldn't. Because what they had was something only shared with each other and no one else.

Wasn't that what love was?

**-o0ofinitoo0o-**

A/N: What the hell did I just write—I don't even. =A= And how did those Sociological terms slipped in anyway? I didn't even mean to. *sobs*

If you couldn't understand what I was trying to convey because of my horrible writing and English, you can highlight these = Uhh, so basically both of them had been circling each other and even though both of them wanted to change and be together already so they could make out and stuff, y'know *is bricked, Tezuka was afraid of being a deviant while Fuji was afraid that their understanding and feelings would change as a result of society's pressure. Or something along that line. Ah, yeah, I did a shameful job writing this. TT-TT

Tammy-chan, Happy Belated Birthday. I'm sorry if this really isn't what you wanted. When I read the translation of the song you gave me, this idea popped into my mind. Crappy interpretation of the song, I know. TT-TT Forgive my inability to write something decent for your present?

C-Comments are much appreciated. So are constructive criticisms. =D


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